


whatever souls are made of, hers and mine are the same

by ImSoSupernova



Category: SKAM (Spain)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Literature, Serenading, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 09:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20190106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImSoSupernova/pseuds/ImSoSupernova
Summary: Cris hates the soulmate system. Why should anyone get to decide for her who she'll love, or what her life's going to be? But things change when she meets a girl who shows her how bright and colorful the world can be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone!! this was written for the skam femslash mini-bang! so this piece also comes with some really wonderful art by tumblr user @vanderheijdnn, so make sure to check that out!!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!! <3

“Listen girls,” Viri says, eyes bright with excitement.

The five of them are sitting on a little grassy hill in a park, enjoying a bit of summer sun. When Viri sits down next to them she’s practically vibrating, it’s so clear she’s got a story she’s dying to share.

“I got a coffee yesterday, you know, like a cappuccino--decaf, of course! Always decaf. And the barista was seriously  _ super  _ cute, and then when I left the shop I thought--and I know this sounds crazy, but hear me out--the leaves on the trees looked  _ different  _ somehow, like  _ brighter,  _ maybe. And when I woke up this morning, I thought the sunlight seemed more  _ vibrant  _ somehow. And I feel different! I really do! And I think…maybe this could be it! Maybe it’s  _ really _ happening this time!”

Cris sighs and rolls her eyes at Amira. Viri has stories about these nearly every week, about some beautiful perfect stranger that she’s  _ sure  _ is the One, her Soulmate That Makes Her See Truly For The First Time. All the cliches. In a week or so, she’ll realize she’s wrong and the colors aren’t really coming out for her. She’ll be down for a day or so, and then she’ll move onto the next one. It always happens, like clockwork.

The other girls are less convinced that it’s nothing, though. 

“You really think so?” Nora asks. Her eyes are wondering and soft.

“I mean--” Viri shifts eagerly. “I suppose…” She laughs a little. “I mean, how can we really _know _when we begin to see colors? How can we know we’re seeing something that we’ve never experienced before?”  
“I dunno.” Eva shrugs. “I’ve always thought that we’d just, like, _know, _you know? That’s what the romance novels seem to say, anyways.”

Viri shakes her head. “We can’t just believe  _ stories,  _ Eva! This is real life. Of course people are going to exaggerate the moment when they meet their soulmate, it’s their  _ soulmate.” _

Eva laughs.  _ “Okay,”  _ she say, waving her hands in the air.

A guy walking past catches sight of her, and waves back. Eva giggles, and smiles at him coquettishly. The girls watch as he makes his way across the park, and then turn back to face each other again. And, to Cris’s chagrin, continue this discussion about soulmates.

Viri turns to look at her expectantly. “Anything?” she asks.

Eva shrugs. “Don’t know,” she says, “but probably not.”

“You never know!” Viri chirps eagerly. 

Eva shakes her head. “Nah, I’ve seen him around a few times before.”

“A few times before?” Viri shakes her head in disbelief. “You flirt with guys you  _ know  _ aren’t your soulmate?”

“Sure,” Eva shrugs again. “Why not? It’s fun to practice, even if it’s not the real thing.”

Viri shakes her head again. “I could never,” she says. “What’s the point, if nothing’s going to come from it?”

Nora tilts her head. “I think it’s good to experience romance for the first time before you meet your soulmate,” she says. “So you know how to deal with those feelings.”

“Sure, sure,” Viri says dismissively. “But when you find  _ true love, _ surely you’ll know how to act!”

Nora shrugs. “Maybe,” she says.

The girls fall silent for a moment, and then Viri starts again. “But really,” she says. “I  _ swear,  _ if you could have seen what those flowers looked like, maybe you’d understand what I mean--yes, Cris,” she says loudly as Cris sighs at her words, “do you have something to add?”

“What, me?” Cris asks innocently, looking up from her phone.

Viri gives her a pointed look. Cris sighs again, and puts down her phone. “Okay, I’m just really not into this whole  _ soulmate  _ thing, you know?” she says, making big air-quotes around the word  _ soulmate.  _ “The idea that there’s just one person out there that we’re  _ forced  _ to spend the rest of our lives with once we find them, and we don’t have any choice about it? It doesn’t feel  _ romantic  _ to me. It feels like a trap.”

The girls are silent for a moment. Cris shrugs. “That’s just what I think. Carry on.” She waves them away with her hand.

“I get what you mean,” Amira says. “The idea of it  _ is  _ scary, and kind of overwhelming. But your soulmate isn’t just some random person you’re paired with by, like, a machine or something. It’s...the one person in the world who’ll totally  _ get _ you, that one person that you just fit together with, you know? It’s not just the colors that tell you they’re your soulmate. It’s everything else about them, too.  _ That’s  _ why it works.”

Eva, Nora, and Viri are all smiling dreamily at this, no doubt imagining who this special guy could be, what it will be like to meet him and see in color for the first time. Cris is less convinced. She shrugs her shoulders. “I guess.”

“Well,” Viri says, “whenever any of you meet your soulmates for the first time, you  _ have  _ to tell me what it’s like. To see color for the first time!”

“Of course!” Eva reaches over to squeeze Viri’s cheek. “And  _ you  _ have to tell us if it happens to you first!”

Later, Cris leaves the park by herself, busy texting on her phone. So busy, in fact, that she doesn’t see someone in her way until she bumps shoulders with a girl about her age, also coming down the path. Cris glances over her shoulder to mumble an apology, then turns back to her phone.

But before she does, she catches a glimpse of the girl’s hair. Long, straight, dark--and different than any hair Cris has ever seen before. Something about it, somehow, has  _ changed,  _ made it more vibrant, more rich, more  _ colorf-- _

_ NO! _

Cris shakes her head vigorously, and hurries away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to my friend sara, who provided a lot of the analysis of wuthering heights in this chapter!

“I can't believe it's the middle of the summer,” Cris complains, “and you’re taking me to some dusty old bookstore?” She lays a hand over her heart in a dramatic swoon. “You’ve changed, Amy…”

Amira laughs. “Calm down, Cris,” she says, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’m just here so I can get the books I need for class. After this, we can go get ice creams, okay,  _ mija _ ?”

Cris stomps her feet and fake-pouts.  _ “Okayyy,”  _ she whines, but winks at Amira. 

The bookstore is dim and dusty, as Cris has expected. She sneezes pointedly as they enter, and Amira laughs and swats her arm. She hurries over to a set of bookshelves across the shop, a girl on a mission, and Cris is left alone--to dick around, she supposes, until Amira is done and they can go somewhere else. 

She stops for a moment to check out the bookshelves nearest to her. Dusty, of course, and full of old, bound books with their names on the spines in shiny lettering. The sign on the top of the shelf says  _ Vintage.  _ Cris pulls one off the shelf and opens it, flipping carefully through the worn pages. She stops to read a few words on the top of one page, feeling them slip through her brain without leaving any impression.  _ Boring… _

She leans in to look closer at the page, and notices how the book is old enough that she can see how each letter has been stamped onto the page with a press, how it makes the lines of text wobble and the words smear in places. It’s so much more personal than the mass-produced bestseller copies of today. Perhaps there's something to these old books after all.

“I like the smell too.”

Cris snaps up. There’s a girl right next to her, looking at the vintage bookshelf too, and Cris realizes she’s the one who’s just spoken. “Sorry?”

“The smell,” the girl says. “Of the old books. There’s nothing really like it, you know?”

“Umm…” Cris has no idea how to respond to this. What kind of person goes around just  _ smelling  _ old books? “Sorry, I wasn’t really...smelling it?”

“Oh.” The girl laughs. “Sorry, I just thought--you were leaning so close to it--”

“Oh, yeah,” Cris blurts out, “I see how it could have looked like that, yeah, I was just looking at the words and stuff--”

“Oh, yeah, I see.” 

Cris and the girl smile at each other. Everything about this moment has been a bit too loud, a bit too awkward, a bit too bright. But also, in some strange way, nothing about it is uncomfortable. The world feels warmer and better in this moment, and Cris doesn’t really want it to end. Something about this girl feels strangely familiar too, something in the way she looks, her jean jacket with its trim faux fur collar, how her hair falls around her face...

The girl reaches over to pull a book off the shelf. “Here you are,” she murmurs to herself, then turns to Cris.  _ “Wuthering Heights.  _ Emily Brontë. Have you ever read it?”

Cris looks at the cover, emblazoned with an image of a man and a woman in period dress and locked in a dramatic embrace, clothes and hair buffeted by the wind. “Umm, nah,” she says, and shrugs. “I don’t really...read, usually.”

“Ah,” the girl says. 

There’s an uncomfortable silence. The girl shifts, and makes as if she’s about to walk away. Something in Cris’s chest leaps as she sees this. She doesn’t want her to go.

“But...this book is good?” she asks quickly.

The girl beams at her. “Yes,” she says, “yes, it’s really--honestly, kind of indescribable, but it’s really incredible. Everything about it--it’s just about love and soulmates in its purest form, in its most literal form. The main couple in it, Catherine and Heathcliff--they represent what it really means to have another soul inside you, besides your own. And it’s ugly and dark, sure, but that’s because they can’t bear to be apart from each other, and only when they’re together can they be happy. And because they can’t be together, they inflict pain on the people around them, and they can’t be happy and have peace again until they meet each other again, no matter what it takes.” The girl blushes a little. “That’s--that’s what it’s about, basically.”

This...is a  _ lot  _ for Cris to process. “Um,” she says. “That--that’s what love means to you?”

The girl shrugs. “It’s not necessarily what it means to me, but it’s what it is. That’s how you know you’re in love, isn’t it? When you just can’t be cold to someone? When the moments you spend away from them are some special form of agony?”

“I mean--I guess.” Cris shrugs uncomfortably. This conversation has taken a very different turn from what she originally expected, and she doesn’t really know what to do with it. “I suppose--I’d have to read it or something to understand it.”

“Oh,  _ yes,  _ girl!” the girl says. “Absolutely, here, have this one!” She thrusts the book into Cris’s hands.

Cris staggers back a little, but takes the gift from her. “Uh, sure, thank you!” she stammers out.

“Cris?” Amira’s voice echoes through the little shop. “I’ve got my stuff, we can head out now.”

Cris whirls around to try and find where her friend’s voice is coming from, book still clutched in hand.

“Cris, huh?” the girl asks. 

“Oh--yeah,” Cris stutters. “That’s my name. Cristina--Cris.”

The girl smiles. “I’m Joana,” she says. “Nice to meet you.”

“There you are!” Amira hurries over and wraps an arm around Cris’s shoulders. “Ooh, did you find a book to read too?”

“Um, I guess so,” Cris says, and allows Amira to steer her towards the checkout counter.

As the cashier rings up her purchase, Cris notices something about the book’s cover. Something about it seems--_richer,_ maybe, more deep in tone, in detail, than any book she’s seen before. Yet something about it is oddly familiar. She could _swear _she’s seen it before. She blinks, trying to get the dust out of her eyes, and looks again, but the cover’s still the same. “Huh,” she says to herself.

“What was that?” the cashier asks her. “Do you need anything else?”

“Umm...no.” Cris looks up, embarrassed. She glances back down at the book again as she pays, and the sight of it strikes her again. “Actually, yes. Sorry, but can you tell me--can you tell me what’s up with the cover of this book? Is it some sort of, like, old-fashioned decorating technique or something? Why does it look so different?”

“Oh, sure.” The cashier leans over and examines it for a moment. “ Uh, there’s nothing wrong with it,” he says. “It’s just, you know, purple.”

_ Purple…you know, purple... _

“Thank you,” Cris says quickly, and hurries away, out of the store and back into the bright sunshine with Amira.

Later, when Cris gets home, she pulls out the book again.

The cover’s still... _ purple, _ and no matter how long Cris stares at it, the color won’t change back. And what’s more, she remembers where she’s seen this--this  _ color  _ before: in that flash of hair from that girl in the park.

The hair that, she could swear, is the same as that of the girl in the store, who loved the smell of old books so much.

Cris continues to stare at the book, silently, forcefully. 

But it refuses to go back to normal.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Try as she might, Cris can’t fucking read the book.

It’s not like she isn’t giving it any effort. She picks it up a few times and pages through the first chapter or so, looking over the words as best she can. But then she gets about twenty pages in, and she realizes that she has no memory of anything she’s just read. This happens so many times that she almost hurls the book across the floor in frustration at one point. Finally, Cris slams the book shut and thrusts it down on her bedside table. 

She tries to ignore it, lying there next to her. But the cover, that  _ purple,  _ keeps lurking there, in the corner of her eye, begging for her attention. And eventually, she picks it up again.

Cris probably doesn’t understand the book, not really. The language is old-fashioned and flowery, weighty, and basically impossible for her to wrap her brain around at times. But still, as she struggles and muddles her way through the intensity of Catherine and Heathcliff’s relationship, through the passion and desperation of their love, through the pain and anguish in their separation, until finally, their peace, together at the end, Cris feels some strange powerful emotion welling up inside of her, something strong and ancient and--and  _ intense.  _ As it grows inside her, Cris becomes more and more aware of what it is: the most primal, instinctual fear she’s ever felt in her life, winding her stomach in knots and sending her heart racing. It grows to the point that Cris wants to throw the book away from her, send it spiraling out her window or down the stairs of her building. Anything,  _ anything  _ to get it as far away from her as she can.

But in some strange way, she also can’t put it down. She can’t stop reading.  _ She can’t stop reading. _

After the last sentence, she has to lie down and stare at the ceiling for a while, watching the swirling static and imagining the rolling hills and heavy fog of the moors, the angry cries and the desperate, clinging embraces. The hands at the windows. And all the while thinking, thinking about the color purple.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

“Fuck, it’s hot out,” Eva says, fanning herself with her magazine.

They’re all on the way to the pool, towels flung around shoulders and flip-flops flapping in a staggered, syncopated rhythm as they walk along.

“For real,” Cris says. “I’m sweating in places I didn’t even  _ know  _ I could sweat, it’s like a swamp down here!”

“Cris!” Viri exclaims, hoisting her towel higher on her shoulders, but everyone else laughs.

“Well, what do you think I wanted to go to the pool for?” Cris asks. “That and to celebrate Amy rocking that burkini, cause she looks  _ amazing!” _

Amira laughs and strikes a pose, and the girls all clap, amidst cries of  _ “Guapa!”  _ and “Gorgeous!” and other similar remarks.

“Eva,” Viri asks eagerly, “is anyone else meeting us there?”

Eva shrugs. “I told Jorge and all them we were going, but I don’t know if he’ll show up.”

“What about Cristian?” Viri asks.

Eva shrugs again. “We don’t really talk anymore.”

“Evaaaa,” Viri whines.

“What?”  
“Oh, we know who this is about,” Cris teases, sharing a knowing smile with Amira. _“Ale-Ale--”_

“No!” Viri exclaims. Then, she collects herself. “No, it’s not him. I swear. I  _ swear!”  _ she repeats as the girls give her a skeptical look. “I’m just wondering if there will be any other friends of Cristian’s at the pool...maybe ones we haven’t met yet.”

“So your soulmate, you mean,” Nora says quietly.

“Well…” Viri tries to look nonchalant, but they all know the truth. It’s Viri, after all. “You never know, right? Why couldn’t I find my soulmate at the pool, of all places? People have found theirs in way weirder places, let me tell you. I once heard this story of this girl who found her soulmate when she--”  
“Please.” Amira holds up her hand. “Let’s just all go to the pool, and who knows?” She winks at Viri. “Maybe some lucky boy with washboard abs will just be waiting for her to show up and color his world!”  
“Now you’re talking, girl!” Viri laughs and throws an arm around Amira’s shoulder.

Cris tries to laugh along with them. But in that moment, they pass by a flowering bush. And the colors of the blooms feel almost as though they’re burning their way into the back of her brain.

The pool’s incredibly crowded, as expected on a day like this one, but somehow they manage to find five available chairs and drag them together into a little semicircle. They spread out their towels, slather on sunscreen, and then they’re off, leaping into the water, strutting in front of any attractive guys on the poolside. It’s great, it’s fun, it’s exactly what they’ve all needed in such oppressively high temperatures. After several dives off the diving board and a few meaningful, and thankfully color-free glances with one of the lifeguards on duty, Cris sits back and relaxes on her chair, ready to soak up some ultraviolet rays.

Until she hears a voice. A voice that she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about. A voice that she sort of hoped she’d never hear again, and then sorta hoped desperately that she would hear again, somehow. 

“Hey. Bookstore girl.”

Cris opens her eyes, and then opens them again, wider. It’s that girl from the bookstore, live and in the flesh and wearing a long-sleeved swimsuit top and shorts, and sitting above Cris, her long  _ purple  _ hair dangling over her face. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” she says. 

“Y-yeah,” Cris says. She pulls herself back up into a sitting position. “Joana, right?”

“Indeed.” Joana smiles. “And you’re Cristina. Cris.”

Something about the way she says Cris’s full name first makes her cheeks heat up. She nods awkwardly, and says, “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Pleasure.” Joana smiles at her again.

Cris can’t think of anything to say for a moment. All she can do is let her eyes glance over Joana, at her peculiar swimsuit and how it covers her body, but very  _ closely... _ she realizes she’s staring, and looks away, blushing. “I--I read the book,” she says, quietly.

“You did?” Joana breaks into a huge grin and scoots closer. It’s such a happy, genuine smile that it really feels to Cris like the sun’s suddenly grown brighter for a moment. “What did you think?”

“I thought…” Cris feels the urge to move in closer as well, the need to speak about the book and her thoughts in a place where only the two of them can hear her speak. “It scared the shit out of me, honestly.”

“Really?” Joana asks. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting this. “Because of the ghosts, or--?”

“No.” Cris shakes her head. “Just the idea--the thought of like, being so devoted in love with someone that you can’t function or be happy without them, and so when they die you’re begging their ghost to come back and haunt you because in that moment it’s the only way you can be together? That’s...that’s scary stuff, girl. Fuck.”

“Mmm.” Joana nods. “It is. But I think that’s love too, you know? It’s scary. It opens up all these feelings and reactions inside of you that you didn’t even know existed before. And Cathy and Heathcliff--well, they feel  _ everything  _ for and because of each other. Including the pain they feel from their separation. And that’s what love is like, you know? The joy of being together, but the inevitable pain of loss as well. But you go through with it anyway because you can’t imagine not feeling love at all.”

“I--I guess,” Cris says hesitantly. Then, trying to brighten the mood, she jokes, “But really? He tried to strangle that one girl’s dog cause he and Cathy couldn’t be together?”

Joana laughs. “Now hey, hey. I never said it was a  _ healthy  _ relationship. Just...what a soulmate relationship could be like when stripped down to its most core, most animal values.”

In this moment, Cris feels oddly breathless.

Somewhere, in this conversation, Joana’s moved a lot closer to her. Or maybe Cris has moved closer to Joana as well, she can’t really tell. But suddenly their faces are inches apart and Cris can smell the sunscreen and chlorine on Joana’s skin and hair. And suddenly, she doesn’t understand anything anymore, as she gazes into her eyes and the strange newness of seeing the color in her hair.

A lifeguard blows a whistle, and they both jump back. And Cris is back feeling hot and blinded by the bright, scorching sun again. “It--it’s an interesting book,” she says quietly.

Joana nods. “It is,” she says. “Hey, if you want to meet up and talk about it again, or another book, or just in general, let me give you my number.”

_ Give you my number… _

Those words bounce around in Cris’s head for a moment, echoing in her ears. Then she realizes Joana’s waiting for a response, and she nods, a bit too vigorously. She reaches for her phone, but Joana’s already pulling something out of her bag. It takes Cris a moment to realize that it’s not a phone, but something long and skinny. A sharpie. And suddenly Joana is gently taking Cris’s arm in her hand, and holding it,  _ holding Cris’s arm,  _ and leaning over as she pulls the cap off the marker and begins to write a phone number on her bare arm. The feeling of the tip of the marker, as it gently brushes itself against her skin, tracing loops and hard lines and curls--as well of the  _ closeness  _ of Joana, of the sensation of her hand against Cris’s skin, the soft  _ puff  _ of her breath against her arm as leans still further over it, concentrating hard, so close that her hair brushes against the bare skin on Cris’s stomach--Cris feels a shiver run through the very core of her body. She’s never felt more  _ alive,  _ more sensitive to the sensation of touch.

The moment lasts only a few seconds, but in Cris’s mind it feels like an eternity. And yet too soon, somehow, as Joana leans back and grins at her, putting the cap back on the sharpie. “I’d love to hear more of your thoughts,” she says. And then she picks up her bag and her jacket, swings both of them over her shoulder, and walks away.

Cris enters the number into her phone as soon as possible, terrified it’ll get washed off in the pool water. But hours later, she still finds herself looking over the faded letters and numbers on her arm.  _ Joana :) ,  _ followed by twelve digits. Smiling up at her. And maybe it’s just whatever weird thing has been in her stomach since Joana gave her the number, but Cris swears that there’s something about the writing that looks different. It’s not the writing, it’s not the format of the number code, it’s not the thickness of the marker. But something about it stands out. Something she can’t put her finger on it.

“Cris?” her mother says, shaking her out of her reverie and instantly putting her on alert. “What’s that on your arm?”

“Nothing!” Cris says quickly, moving her sweatshirt sleeve down to cover it. “I mean, it’s nothing to worry about, Mom.”

“Okay.” Her mother sounds unconvinced, but they’ve been through this enough that Cris knows she won’t bother prying. Sure enough, she turns around and moves away, back to the kitchen where she’s been working. As she leaves the room, she murmurs back, “That’s a pretty shade of green.”

_ Green? _

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

In a moment of panic, Cris washes the writing off of her arm that night in the shower, scrubbing at it vigorously with her favorite soaps until nothing is left but some warm, raw skin. And for a second, she can pretend that nothing’s been happening. That she hasn’t seen the same girl twice in one week, that speaking with that girl hasn’t caused her to feel emotions that she’s never experienced before. That she hasn’t started seeing bits of color everywhere she goes. 

She washes the writing off of her arm, but she can’t ignore what’s already there. The purple on the cover of the book, the flowers on the street, peeking out from clothes and accessories and lipsticks. And now the green, and it’s  _ everywhere,  _ in the grass, the trees, the  _ leaves... _ whenever Cris goes outside, she can’t escape it, and it feels as though the world is pressing in on her, crushing her into the hot, hard cement ground. It’s all too bright, too harsh too  _ much.  _ Cris wishes more than anything she could go back, back to that peaceful world of black and white. Because Cris has read the books. She knows the stories. She knows how things are supposed to work, and she can’t see them working with her.

And then there’s Joana. Cris texts her once, and suddenly she’s popping up in her notifications all the time. Talking about  _ Wuthering Heights,  _ and the other books she’s read. Asking about meeting up sometime, to talk more about the book, or just “to talk more in general.” Everything so kind, so hopeful, so excited to talk to her. Everything making Cris feel excited and terrified and ultimately sick to her stomach, and yet--

There’s just something about her, something about this girl with her jean jacket and her dark purple hair. The way her eyes light up when she talks about books, and love. The smile on her face whenever Cris says something to her about books, or reading, and even though Cris is  _ certain  _ what she’s saying isn’t really right, not the best interpretation of the book, there’s nothing mocking about that smile. That smile just makes her want to say more, makes her want to pour her whole heart and soul out to Joana. Tell her exactly what she’s thinking about the whole soulmate thing, about just  _ why  _ Cathy and Heathcliff’s love scares her so much. Or just talk about anything, really. Just stay with Joana and that wonderful smile, that brightness and passion she brings to whatever they talk about, and get to know her,  _ really  _ get to know her.

There are times when that little piece of knowledge Cris has in the back of her mind about her and Joana isn’t so scary, makes her smile, even. 

And it’s during one of those times when Joana texts her again, and it’s so sweet and hopeful that Cris just  _ can’t  _ bring herself to ignore it,  _ can’t  _ bring herself to say no. And then suddenly, she’s going to see Joana again, and she finds herself so excited and frightened, deathly frightened by the possibility of the new colors she could see. 

Joana invites her to meet her at a coffee shop across the street from a pretty little park.  _ Pretty,  _ Cris supposes, but she turns away from it, trying to avoid the brilliance, the blindingness of the green that illuminates every blade of grass, every leaf. She orders her drink, something  _ called _ coffee but with enough flavor and sugar to mask any actual coffee flavors, and sits down in a seat, waiting, with her back to the park.

And waiting. And waiting. Fifteen minutes pass, then a half hour. And Cris sits there, tapping her toes on the group and ignoring the purple of the dress of a woman sitting nearby, and wondering just when Joana will show up, and if she doesn’t, what she’s doing, texting Cris and then standing her up. She’s just about ready to leave after 45 minutes of waiting when suddenly she feels a rush of air and Joana’s hurrying over, pulling out a chair across from Cris and sitting down with her drink. “Hey,” she says.

“H-hey,” Cris says. “What--what’s up?”

“You look great,” Joana says, grinning at her. “I love that shirt.”

Cris blushes and looks down at her sweatshirt. “Um, thank you,” she says.

They look at each other for a moment, and Cris is struck by the sight of Joana’s hair. It’s--it’s  _ purple.  _ Bright, deep purple. And it’s not like she hasn’t known this, or seen it before, but now all of a sudden it feels so much brighter, so much more  _ there.  _ Unavoidable. 

“Why did you dye your hair?” Cris asks her suddenly. “I mean, you must not have even been able to see how it looked for the longest time. So why bother?”

“How do you know?” Joana winks at her. “How do you know that I haven’t known my soulmate for a while now, and I started dyeing it after I met them?”

This throws Cris for a loop, and suddenly she’s wondering if she’s been misinterpreting everything. If there could have been someone else she’s met, and it’s not Joana after all. But Joana is smiling at her in a mischievous way, and Cris realizes she’s teasing her. And her heart sinks again, deep into her stomach. “Because…” she murmurs, mouth dry. “Because...you only just met her, didn’t you? And--” Joana’s nodding, and smiling, and Cris feels like she’s going to be sick. “It’s me, isn’t it? And you’re--you’re mine.”

_ My soulmate... _ Those words, the words that Cris has been dreading to hear for so long. The words, filled with such expectations, such ideas of epic,  _ perfect _ romance. Cris can feel them descending upon her so strongly that it’s almost a physical sensation as well--weighing her down, filling her up, until she becomes absolutely convinced that there’s nothing for her to do but sink.

Joana beams at her. “Yes,” she says, “Yes, I think so! I was confused for a moment because I started seeing colors before I met you at that bookshop. But then I remembered...I bumped into you, in that park, a few days before. I didn’t realize it for a while, but I remembered. I remembered that bright yellow sweatshirt.”

“Yellow?” Cris looks down, and suddenly she can see it too, shocking her eyes. It’s so bright. It’s so bright. And it’s on her now, and she can’t escape it. She can see it no matter which way she looks, and she has this desperate, vicious urge to rip it off, burn it. Get it away from her forever. And Joana’s still smiling at her, and her hair is  _ purple,  _ it’s  _ purple,  _ and she turns around and the plants in the park are just so  _ green,  _ and there’s more and more yellow around her everywhere, illuminated by that great big golden sun--

And Cris realizes she can’t do this. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I can’t do this.”

“What?” Joana says. 

“This soulmate thing.” Cris begins to stand up. “I’m sorry. I can’t. We just--I can’t. This can’t work out. I can’t--I can’t have a soulmate right now. I just can’t.” 

Joana’s face begins to fall, in shock, in sadness, but Cris doesn’t see what she does next. She’s already begun to run away.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

It doesn’t go away. 

It doesn’t go away.

_ It doesn’t go away. _

Cris wants to pull her eyes out of their sockets. Because no matter how many times she puts her phone on silent and deletes the notifications she gets when Joana texts her, no matter how much she tries to close her eyes against the new flashes of color that keeps popping up (greens, yellows, purples, and now  _ oranges, reds _ \--), they keep coming. They keep coming, and Cris keeps seeing more and more. It gets to the point that some days she can’t even remember what it was like to only see in black and white anymore. And on those days, all she wants to do is curl up in bed and close her eyes and  _ sleep.  _ And forget the park and the bookshop and the pool and the coffee shop and just go back to before. 

And so she ignores the texts from her friends, and stays home in her dark room, and waits alone. And wishes. 

_ Please...before. _

“Hey, what’s up?” Amira asks her one day.

They’re at the pool again,  _ the  _ pool, and Cris is sitting on the side while her friends splash and swim, trying as hard as she can to avoid staring at the cool blueness of the water, and the spot in the shade where she and Joana talked about  _ Wuthering Heights  _ what feels like ages ago. “Huh?” she asks. “Oh...nothing.”

“Uh-uh.” Amira shakes her head. “You’ve been moping around for the past few weeks. You haven’t been texting us. You’ve been to like, what, two parties out of the like...ten we’ve gone to? You’re here at the pool in a swimsuit and you haven’t been showing off at  _ all.  _ This isn’t like you, Cris. What’s going on?”

Cris laughs a little at Amira’s assessment, but shakes her head. “Amy--I don’t--I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Amira sits there for a moment, silent. Then she reaches over and takes Cris’s hand. “Okay,” she says. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t feel ready to. But know that I’m here for you, alright? There’s nothing you could say that would drive me away from you.”

Her eyes are so warm and caring, full of as much love as Cris could ever imagine, and as she gazes into them for a moment, Cris feels something inside her break. And the tears that she’s been swallowing for weeks, ever since she left Joana at that coffee shop, begin to spill out. “I--I--” Her throat is so tight, she can barely get the words out. “I met my soulmate, Amy. I met her a few weeks ago.”

Amira’s face lights up. “That’s great, Cris! That’s so exciting!”

Cris shakes her head. “No, Amira. It’s not. It’s--it’s all a mess. I can’t do this. I can’t have a soulmate. I’m--I’m  _ sixteen,  _ Amira! How can I know right now who the person I’m going to spend the rest of my life is? How is that already decided  _ for  _ me? Don’t I get any say? Maybe I don’t  _ want  _ a soulmate! Maybe I just want to be alone all my life! Maybe--I’m  _ scared,  _ Amira. I’m really scared. I don’t know--how to do this. I don’t know how to  _ feel  _ things right. I don’t know how to deal with the fact that there’s someone out there for me who will  _ want  _ me. What if I--what if I mess it all up? What if I already have?”

“Cris, Cris.” Amira squeezes her hand and brings it close to her chest. “You’re scared because it  _ is  _ scary, okay? No matter what all the stories say, everyone who meets their soulmate goes through this, I think. Because it  _ is  _ a huge moment, and it  _ is  _ a huge change. But it’s not accidental, or random, okay? You are soulmates because you are  _ right,  _ because you will just  _ work  _ on levels that people who aren’t the both of you won’t even  _ begin _ to understand. And you’re just in the early stages right now. You’re still getting to know each other. So maybe you won’t be absolutely in love with each other right now, and that’s okay. But you should give it a chance, get to know each other. And sure, maybe you don’t know exactly what to do or how to act, but when the time is right, you’ll know. You’ll just know.”

Amira’s words lift Cris up from the inside out, fill her up with a feeling that she hasn’t dared to let herself feel in so long: hope. Excitement, even. “You really think so?” she asks Amira.

“I know so.” Amira grins at her. “Because...you should know, I actually met my soulmate too, about a month or so back.”

“You  _ WHAT?” _ Cris exclaims. “And you didn’t even tell me?”

“Hey.” Amira pokes a finger at Cris. “How long did it take  _ you  _ to tell me?”

Cris laughs. “Fair enough, fair enough. But seriously, girl, you met him? For  _ sure?” _

_ “Her,  _ actually,” Amira corrects. “And yes, for sure. As sure as I know that your hair is blonde and the grass is green.”

Cris sits back. “Wow,” she says.

“And like I said,” Amira continues, “It  _ was  _ scary at first. I didn’t know what to do. But I talked to her, and I got to know her, and I realized...we were  _ right.  _ And...I love her, Cris, I really do. And you and your soulmate, you’re gonna get there too. I know it.”

Cris smiles. But then she murmurs, “Umm...is now the time to tell you that I kind of...ran away from her after we said we were soulmates?”

“Cris!” Amira shakes her head. “Oh, Cris. Well...you should probably apologize to her for that.”

Cris rolls her eyes. “Well,  _ obviously. _ ” Then she remembers Joana’s falling face. “I’ll--I’m gonna do that, yeah.”

Amira pulls her in for a hug. “I believe in you, Cris. You’re going to be great, the two of you. I just know it.”


	7. Chapter 7

Cris looks at her phone again, tapping her fingernails against her phonecase as she reads the text she’s just sent. 

**Cris: ** I’m so sorry for everything. Can we meet up?

And she waits. And waits. But despite all the unread, unanswered messages that Joana’s sent her over the past few weeks, Cris sees nothing. No text bubbles, no read receipts, no sign she’s online, nothing. 

She tries putting her phone down for a while, tries to distract herself with watching some show on Netflix, with going for a walk, even going so far as to clean her room. But even through the mindless laughter of the TV, through the bright, new colors of the outside, through the monotony of folding her clothes and vacuuming underneath her bed, her phone remains silent, and Joana remains offline, unseeing. 

Cris tries to repeat Amira’s words to herself, telling herself over and over again that things aren’t over, they  _ can’t  _ be, Joana is her  _ soulmate. _ This  _ must  _ work out. But...as time goes on, and all Cris hears is radio silence, she can’t help but wonder if something  _ has  _ gone wrong. Maybe there’s something wrong with her, some glitch in the system. Maybe she’s the only girl in the entire world whose soulmate doesn’t love her back.  _ Of course that would be me,  _ Cris thinks.  _ The only girl who couldn’t be loved in the world.  _

Just then, her phone buzzes. 

Cris hurries over to grab it and see what it says.

**Joana: ** Ok. Tomorrow at the coffee shop?

Cris is anxious, and Joana is late again. And so she sits with her drink, and watches as the people go by, as the leaves rustle in the trees, as the pigeons hop past on the sidewalk. Cris admires the colorful sheen of their necks. 

The chair across from her scrapes against the sidewalk, and Cris looks up as Joana sits down. “Hey,” she says, and she smiles. 

“Hi.” Joana gives her what looks like it could be a smile, but it disappears so quickly that Cris wonders if she imagined it.

There’s a silence. It stretches between the two of them, expanding until it feels so heavy that Cris can barely breathe. All she can do is keep smiling, and look at Joana’s blank face.

“I’m so sorry,” she finally says. “I--I got scared, and I ran. And it wasn’t fair. I’m so sorry.”

Joana shrugs. “Save it,” she says. “It doesn’t matter.”

That’s the last reaction Cris expected “What do you mean?” 

“I mean...it doesn’t matter.” Joana stirs her drink. “I don’t care that you’re my soulmate. That doesn’t mean we have to do anything. This--you’ve made it clear that this won’t work. So go ahead. Do whatever you want.” She waves her hand. “I release you.”

Cris can’t believe what she’s hearing. She feels like she’s stuck in some awful, frightening dream that she can’t seem to shake herself out of. “No,” she says, “No. That’s--that’s not how it works. We’re  _ soulmates.  _ You can’t just ignore that.”

Joana sighs. “Isn’t that what you did?”

The words are designed to hurt, and hurt they do. Cris winces as she feels their meaning sink in. “Yes,” she says. “That  _ is  _ exactly what I did, and I was  _ wrong.  _ We don’t have to date, or get married, or anything. But we’re soulmates, and we’re going to be together forever. And we have to get used to that. Get to know each other at least?” She pleads.

Joana just looks at her. 

“I  _ want  _ to get to know you,” Cris presses.

Joana shrugs. “Maybe that’s how it works for everyone else. But not now. Not with us. This is different from all the others. I can tell.”

_ “How?”  _ Cris is getting annoyed now.  _ “How  _ is this different? What about  _ us  _ makes us so damn special that we go against the entire system that humans have been living by as long as they’ve been existing? That makes no sense, Joana!”

_ “How  _ are we different?” Joana shakes her head and laughs to herself. “Do you  _ really  _ want to know, Cris? Do you  _ really?” _

Cris crosses her arms. “Humor me.”

“Fine.” Joana crosses her arms to mimic Cris. “Because _ I’m _ not like everyone else. Because I have a mental illness called borderline personality disorder, and that means that I don’t  _ feel  _ like everyone else does, and I don’t  _ act  _ like everyone else does. So why  _ should  _ it work for me? Nothing else does.”

This is the last thing Cris expected to hear, and she doesn’t know what to say. “I--Joana--I--”

“Stop.” Joana stands up. “And I need someone who I can rely on. Something stable. And right now? I’m sorry, Cris, but I don’t know if that’s you.”

“Joana wait!” Cris starts as Joana begins to walk away. “Wait, no!”

But she’s gone.

Cris looks around her helplessly, watching her retreating figure in the distance. Somehow, even though the whole world’s in color now, it feels much more blank and desolate than it ever did when she was seeing in black and white.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

“Girls,” Viri says, beaming with excitement, “you will  _ not  _ believe what happened to me today!!”

Cris recognizes that tone of voice, and her stomach sinks. This is the  _ last  _ thing she needs today, on top of everything else. But Eva’s already asking for details eagerly, and Nora has leaned in close. Amira turns to glance at Cris with a knowing smile, and Cris tries her best to return it.

“Okay, so!” Viri leans in close. “I was walking to the park today, you know, just casual, as I do. When suddenly this guy slams right into my shoulder! I’m like hey,  _ excuse me!  _ And so he turns, and he’s like  _ oh, sorry _ , kinda shrugging. But then, he  _ looks  _ at me. Like, really looks! And he’s still sort of staring at me as I walk off. And I  _ swear  _ girls, I  _ swear  _ that, as I walked away, the sky just looked  _ different.  _ And I think he saw something too! I think it’s finally happening!”

Cris sighs, a bit too loudly, surely, but she  _ really  _ can’t take this right now. Viri turns to look at her. “Sorry, Cris?”

Cris shakes her head. “Um, nothing. Sorry. It’s just--he was just some creep, Viri. Some rude creep who sees a pretty girl and doesn’t know how to act. I’m sorry. That’s just the truth.”

Viri’s face falls as she speaks; Cris watches as the excited light dies from her eyes. But she plasters on another smile and says, “I mean, maybe. But we don’t know, really, we don’t know…”

“Trust me Viri,” Cris says, and she can’t help letting a bit of the sadness and anger she’s been feeling these past few weeks leak into her voice and words as she speaks. “That’s all it’s gonna be...and that’s okay. Honestly. You don’t need to go looking for your soulmate everywhere you go, you know. Because all this soulmate stuff, it’s really not all they say it is. It’s not gonna just be rainbows and butterflies as soon as you meet. All your problems--they’re not just gonna go away. So...it’s really best to just…” Cris sees the darkening look on Viri’s face, the complete disappearance of her bright smile. “...stop.”

Viri swallows, and takes a deep breath. Then, she looks Cris dead in the eye. “You think I don’t know that, Cris?” The steeliness of Viri’s gaze shocks her. “I’m not some naive little kid, dreaming up fairytale stories. I know finding my soulmate isn’t the be-all, end-all of happiness. But...it’s something  _ exciting, _ something to look forward to. Something to keep in mind, so that even when I’m having a shitty week, when my grades are slipping and the spots on my face won’t go away, I can remember that there’s someone out there, somewhere, who’s gonna love me just the same. No matter what.”

_ Someone who’s gonna love me just the same...no matter what… _

Cris hears those words, and all of a sudden all those walls she’s been building up, all the facades of cool indifference to love and feelings just begin to falter. And then they just start crumbling, and her eyes well up with tears, and she can't hold them back anymore.  _ Fuck. _

And all of a sudden she’s sobbing. And her friends are all crowded around her, the softest concern in their eyes, asking  _ Cris? Cris? What’s wrong? _

“I just don’t know what to do,” Cris says for what feels like the hundredth time in the past ten minutes. “I mean...she’s right. I failed her. I’m not what she needs. How can I be her soulmate if I can’t give her what she needs?”

Amira rubs her back. “That’s not true, Cris.”

The rest of the girls murmur their agreement.

“But this...BPD thing,” Eva says. “That kind of sounds like...a lot. Are you sure she’s going to be able to give you what you need, either? It has to go both ways, you know.”

Cris shrugs hopelessly. “I don’t know. Like I keep saying, I just don’t know.”

Nora reaches out to hold her hands. “It’s important to think of yourself too. Is she really right for you?”

Viri scoffs, and everyone stares at her. “I’m sorry,” she says. “But you guys are being ridiculous! Cris, of  _ course  _ you’re going to be able to give her what she needs! Eva, Nora, everyone--of  _ course  _ she’s going to be right for Cris. If she had diabetes, or like, epilepsy, or something, would you be worried that she would be too much for Cris? No! So why would her having a mental disorder be any different? You need to remember they’re  _ soulmates!  _ Soul-fucking-mates! Sure, it might not be easy right away, Cris. You’re gonna have to have some good discussions, for sure. But...you two were put on earth specifically  _ for _ each other. Whatever challenges come up, you’re gonna be able to face them.  _ Together.” _

Cris feels her eyes fill up with tears again. She leans over to give Viri the warmest, tightest hug she can. “Elvira Gómez, you and your soppy optimism are gonna save the  _ world  _ someday, you know that?”

Viri grins and blushes. “I think I do sometimes, yeah.”

The girls all laugh, pulling each other into hugs and cuddles that are full of tears and giggles and tissues and snot. “I love you all,” Cris says. “So, so much.”

“We love you!” And she’s swarmed by hugs again.

“Okay,” Cris says, awhile later. “What’s our next move, then? How do I--fix this?”

“I thought you’d never ask, girl!” Viri exclaims. “Clearly, you’ve got to do something big, something special just for her. Something that shows that you do care about her, and that you’ll be there for her when she needs it. Something...grand.”

Eva laughs. “No pressure, right?”

“Yeah, no pressure,” Cris agrees. “But I think I might have some ideas…”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to kate bush! we love her!!

Cris shifts her weight nervously. “Are you sure this is gonna work?”

“Sure? No,” Viri says. “But come on, it’s  _ got  _ to work. You’re going to show her that she’s not the one person in the world who’s an outlier. Her soulmate experience  _ can  _ be just like the stories we’ve read.”

“Right,” Cris says, nodding. “Right. Are you sure this is her house?”

Eva nods. “Jorge and his group looked her up.”

“And you’re  _ positive  _ they couldn’t have made a mistake?”

Eva hesitates. “Let’s just make sure she comes to the door first.”

“Great.”

Amira pops up. “Everything’s ready to go. But are you, Cris?”

Cris feels a burst of anxiety bloom in her stomach, but she nods. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

The subway ride to Joana’s house is quiet, or as quiet as it can be over the rattling of the train and the announcer’s voice. Cris sits between Viri and Amira, and they squeeze her hands. When the announcer calls out Joana’s stop, Cris feels like she’s about to throw up. But her friends gather around her and buoy her up, lifting her out of the train and up the steps, out into the bright sunlight.

As they approach the house, Cris turns to the girls. “Thank you,” she says, with all the sincerity she holds in her heart. “Thank you for everything.”

Amira gives her a big hug. “Of course.”

All the others join in, and they all hold each other together in that moment.

“Alright,” Cris says, pulling away. “Let’s go.”

She walks up to the door, takes a deep breath, and knocks.

_ One second, two seconds, three seconds… _

Cris wonders what they’ll do if they’re wrong, if this isn’t actually her house. How could they hope to find her then? Would she have to wander around Madrid, checking all the used bookstores in hopes that one day she might get lucky?

_ Five seconds, six seconds, seven seconds… _

She wonders which option scares her more: if it’s not her house, or if it is.

_ Ten seconds, eleven seconds, twelve seconds… _

Cris lifts her hand to knock again, but the second before her knuckles make contact with the wood, the door swings open. And there she is, purple hair and black t-shirt, looking her straight in the face. 

“Cris?”

“Joana,” Cris exclaims. “Hey…”

“Hi.” Joana’s voice is flat, and Cris’s heart sinks a little. But Joana hasn’t tried to shut the door on her yet, so she takes that as a good sign. 

“I know you told me to go away,” she says hurriedly, “and I think I understand. But I have something that I’d like to say really quick, and if you still want me to go away afterwards, I will. Promise. But hear me out first, okay?”

Joana nods. Her face is still blank. “Okay.”

Cris turns back to her friends. “Hit it.”

The music begins, and for a moment, Cris feels brightly, painfully conscious of herself. Standing outside of a girl who’s told her, basically, to fuck off. About to serenade her, with almost no singing experience at all, with a song that almost no one can actually sing. But then she looks at Joana again, and sees the look on her face change as, Cris thinks, she recognizes the song. Changing into something that almost,  _ almost  _ could be the beginnings of a surprised, pleased smile. And the sight of that gives Cris the courage to open her mouth and  _ sing. _

_ Out on the wiley, windy moors _ _   
_ _ We'd roll and fall in green _ _   
_ _ You had a temper like my jealousy _ _   
_ _ Too hot, too greedy _ _   
_ _ How could you leave me _ _   
_ _ When I needed to possess you? _ _   
_ _ I hated you, I loved you, too _ _   
_ _ Bad dreams in the night _ _   
_ _ They told me I was going to lose the fight _ _   
_ _ Leave behind my wuthering, wuthering _ _   
_ __ Wuthering Heights

Cris winces at the sound of her voice as she sings. But Joana’s smile is growing wider, even though Cris can tell she’s trying to hide it. And so she continues.

_ Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy _ _   
_ _ I've come home, I'm so cold _ _   
_ _ Let me in through your window _ _   
_ _ Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy _ _   
_ _ I've come home, I'm so cold _ _   
_ __ Let me in through your window

Cris can feel herself getting into it, making sweeping gestures with her arms while she sings the chorus. And Joana’s no longer able to hold her smile back, she’s grinning at her now.

_ Ooh, it gets dark, it gets lonely _ _   
_ _ On the other side from you _ _   
_ _ I pine a lot, I find the lot _ _   
_ _ Falls through without you _ _   
_ _ I'm coming back, love _ _   
_ _ Cruel Heathcliff, my one dream _ _   
_ _ My only master _ _   
_ _ Too long I roam in the night _ _   
_ _ I'm coming back to his side, to put it right _ _   
_ _ I'm coming home to wuthering, wuthering _ _   
_ __ Wuthering Heights

Joana’s whole face is lighting up with her smile, and it’s beautiful to see. She’s so happy, she’s ducking her head and she can’t seem to stop grinning. Cris is smiling so hard she can barely keep singing. 

_ Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy _ _   
_ _ I've come home, I'm so cold _ _   
_ _ Let me in through your window _ _   
_ _ Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy _ _   
_ _ I've come home, I'm so cold _ _   
_ __ Let me in through your window

Joana looks Cris right in the eye. And then she takes a step forward. Cris feels her heart lift in her chest. And she steps forward too. Caught in this moment, in the hope and music and beauty of Joana’s smile, Cris holds out her hands. And Joana...Joana  _ takes them.  _ And Cris  _ sings. _

_ Ooh, let me have it _ _   
_ _ Let me grab your soul away _ _   
_ _ Ooh, let me have it _ _   
_ _ Let me grab your soul away _ _   
_ __ You know it's me, Cathy

Joana laughs. “This really isn’t your song, is it?”

Cris rolls her eyes, but she’s got a grin firmly affixed to her face. “Maybe not, but for you, it is.”

“Awww.” Joana tucks a strand of hair behind Cris’s ear and smiles. And she sings the final lines along with her.

_ Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy _ _   
_ _ I've come home, I'm so cold _ _   
_ _ Let me in through your window _ _   
_ _ Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy _ _   
_ _ I've come home, I'm so cold _ _   
_ _ Let me in through your window _ _   
_ _ Heathcliff, it's me, I'm Cathy _ _   
_ __ I've come home, I'm so cold

Joana pulls Cris into a hug, holding her so close that Cris can feel her heartbeat pounding through her ribs, in time with her own, so close that Cris can feel the dampness from the tears sliding down Joana’s face.

“I’m here,” Cris murmurs. “I wasn’t before, and I know that, and I’m sorry. But I’m here now, and I’m never going to stop being here from now on. I’m not going to run away again. I promise. I promise.”

And they stand there, and they hold each other tight. And Cris whispers over and over again,  _ I promise. I promise. _


	10. Chapter 10

“You know, you never told me.” Cris reaches over and strokes Joana’s hair. “Why  _ did  _ you dye your hair before you could even see color?”

They’re lying next to each other on a blanket in the grass, sides pressed together. Joana laughs and rolls on her back. “I don’t know,” she says. “I just...I think I wanted to go against the system, in a way. Like, just because I couldn’t see color didn’t mean I couldn’t embrace it. Why should only people who’d found their soulmates have all the fun? So I bought a bottle of dye and some hair bleach and just did it. And thought, well one day I’d  _ really _ get to enjoy it.”

Cris smiles. “I love it,” she says. “You know, that was the first color I saw, right? The purple of your hair.”

“Oh really?” Joana grins. “And what did you think?”

“It’s beautiful.” Cris reaches over to muss it again. “Really, it suits you perfectly.”

Joana’s cheeks grow a bit pink. “Thank you.”

Cris rolls on her back too, and leans over to rest her head on Joana’s stomach. Joana reaches out to run her fingers through her hair. “I love your hair too,” she murmurs.

Cris closes her eyes and smiles. “Thank you,” she says.

“You know,” Joana murmurs a little while later. “I think--I think another reason I wanted to dye my hair was because I never…I really never believed I was going to have a soulmate. So...this was the closest to seeing colors that I could get, I thought.”

Cris twists to look at her. “But you were wrong, though.”

Joana shrugs. “Yeah. I guess.”

Cris adjusts so she can look her straight in the eye. “You  _ were.”  _ She gives her a wink, tries to lessen the tension. “I know this, I’m your soulmate.”

“Yes, but Cris…” Joana sits up. “This is...a difficult illness, you understand? One day I’m fine, I’m great. All happy and nice. But the next, I’m dark. I’m angry, I’m sad, I snap and say things I don’t mean, things that will hurt others. And I never know what each day is gonna be. Ever.”

Cris takes a moment to process this. “Okay,” she finally says.

Joana gives her a look. “Okay?”

Cris gives her a small smile. “Yeah. Okay.”

“But...you aren’t scared at all?”

Cris shrugs. Fear has become such a part of her over the past few weeks that it doesn't really seem daunting anymore. “Of course I’m scared,” she says. “Terrified. But--that’s love, right?” She smiles at her. “All the good and bad feelings and everything in between. No matter what, we’re gonna get through this together. Alright?”

Joana smiles. “Alright.”

“You know,” Cris says later, “I don’t think--I never really thought I’d get a soulmate, either. Or, I guess I never thought that I’d  _ be  _ a soulmate for anyone.”

“What do you mean?” Joana asks.

“I guess…” Cris shrugs. “I’ve always felt--you know--I’ve always felt like I’m kind of just  _ there.  _ Like I’m the cool girl, and I’m the fun girl, and I go to parties to get drunk and make people laugh, and that’s all people ever think of me. They never think of me as anything deeper, they never really take me seriously. And so...I guess I’ve always sort of thought that I’m  _ not  _ serious enough, or smart enough, or  _ good _ enough for a soulmate. There wouldn’t really be that one person in the world who would want  _ me _ , only  _ me,  _ to be with me forever. Or, if they did, they’d just end up disappointed.”

Joana nods thoughtfully as she listens to Cris speak. “Well,” she says finally, “Good thing you were wrong, too.”

Cris smiles at her. “You think?”

“Cris, you showed up at my house unannounced to sing a karaoke love song perfectly tailored to my interests. I don’t think, I  _ know.” _

“Ask me a question,” Joana says later, as they’re walking through the streets.

“What do you mean? About what?” Cris asks.

“Anything.” Joana shrugs. “If you’re gonna be my soulmate, we should get to know each other first, right?”

“Right…” Cris casts around in her brain for an idea. “Umm...what’s your favorite animal?”

Joana lets out a short, surprised laugh. “My favorite animal?”

Cris gives her a fake pouting look. “You said to ask you anything!”

“Fair, fair.” Joana holds up her hands in surrender. “I’ve never really thought about it but...I like frogs, I think. They’re so fun to look at, and they just hop around eating bugs all day. And they look at you with those intense eyes…” She stops to look at Cris. “You kind of remind me of them, you know? With your eyes--they’re so big and bright and thoughtful. Unique.”

Cris laughs. “I look like...a frog?”

Joana winces. “It was a compliment! I swear!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Cris steps in and winks at her. “I believe you.”

Joana smiles, and Cris suddenly becomes sharply aware of how close their faces are together. All she would have to do is lift her chin up just slightly, and then--

“So, what’s your favorite animal?” Joana asks.

“Um…” Cris clears her throat awkwardly. “Cats, I think. They’re cute and fluffy.”

Joana nods. “Cute and fluffy. Very solid choice.”

They stand there for a moment. Then Cris says, “Your turn. Ask  _ me _ a question.”

They walk for--Cris doesn’t even know  _ how  _ long, with no real destination in mind, turning the corners that seem interesting to them, stopping and peering in whatever shop windows catch their eyes. Winding around and around the streets of Madrid until they don’t recognize their surroundings, and they don’t care. And all the way, asking each other questions, learning more about each other. 

Cris learns that Joana is an only child, and her favorite class in school is literature. She lived in Argentina for the first fourteen years of her life, and moved to Madrid because of her dad’s job. She likes Spain, but when she first moved, the kids would tease her for her accent. And so she developed a habit of being silent.

“Fuck them.” Cris stops in the street. “It’s beautiful. And you have such good things to say. You should say them!”

Joana turns bright red, and takes a moment before she speaks again.

Cris tells Joana about her three brothers, and how she always feels both singled out and forgotten as the only girl. Her favorite class in school is none of them (which makes Joana snort), but when she was younger she liked the writing workshops her school would do. She also tells Joana about Zaorejas, where she’s from, about their little house in the village and all the places she likes to visit when she’s down there.

“One day I’ll take you there,” Cris says. “You’ll love it. You have to, ‘cause we’re soulmates and I can’t have a soulmate who doesn’t love my village.”

Joana laughs. “I can’t wait,” she says, and her eyes show how much she means it.

They find a little city park, just a few square meters of grass, a bench, a tree, and a fountain that burbles quietly. It’s here where Cris asks Joana the last question she can think of. “What’s your favorite color, do you think? Now that you can see them.”

Joana thinks about it for a moment. Then she says, “Yellow. It’s so bright and joyful. Whenever I see it, I feel...hope.” Cris nods. “You?” Joana asks.

“Umm…” Cris thinks. Then she smiles as she realizes the answer. “Purple. You just never forget your first one, you know?”

“Yeah,” Joana murmurs. 

The wind rustles the leaves of the trees a little as they sit there in silence, listening to the splashing of the water and the faint sounds of passing traffic. Then, Joana says softly, “Can I ask you one more question?”

Cris looks up. “Yeah, of course.”

“Can I--” Joana blushes and looks away. “Can I-- _ kiss  _ you?”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, and once Cris hears them,  _ really  _ hears them, they become all she can think about. 

_ Can I kiss you? _

“Yes,” she says, laughing without thinking. “Yes, please.”

“Okay.” Joana grins.

They sit there for a moment, looking at each other. 

“Should I--should I lean in?” Cris asks awkwardly, after a moment.

“Oh!” Joana blushes. “Right...yeah. Um, sure, I guess we both could?”

Cris smiles. “Sounds good.”

She looks at Joana for one more moment. And then she leans in. And she can see Joana leaning in as well.

It’s not perfect. Their noses squash together a bit at first, and they’re both a bit clumsy with the tongue. But then Joana wraps her arms around Cris’s shoulders and reaches up to tangle her hands in her hair, and then Cris wraps her arms around Joana’s waist and uses it to pull herself closer to her. And all the other sounds, of the leaves, the water, the traffic, all fade away, until the entire world becomes the sound of each other’s breathing and the beating of each other’s hearts, and the swirl of gold and purple around them.

And so really, it  _ is  _ perfect.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw for discussions of attempted suicide in this chapter

One kiss leads to another, and another, and then many, many, more, so many throughout the next few days that Cris quickly loses count. In the park, on the streets heading back to Joana’s house, in Joana’s room, tangled up in each other’s arms and legs and the bedsheets. And this becomes routine, day after day. Kisses on kisses on kisses until their lips are swollen and their faces are numb, and still more after that.

In between, they keep up the game of asking questions. Getting to know each other, the one that they’ll spend the rest of their life with. Cris tells Joana about how she used to like school, but now her Mom puts so much pressure on her that she can’t help hating it. She tells her about her brothers, how she’s so much younger than the oldest one that she’s barely ever met him, much less known him. How the second-oldest is off learning finance at some school and is just the most  _ boring _ person in the world to talk to. And the youngest, Dani--”Well, he’s alright, Dani.” She shrugs. 

And she tells Joana about her friends, about Eva’s energy and joy, about Viri’s enthusiasm and kindness, about Nora’s understanding and infinite wisdom. And most of all, about Amira, her best friend. How they met in grade school when the teacher sat them next to each other, and they’ve been inseparable since. And how Amira is the kindest, smartest, and also the funniest person Cris has ever met. And how she’s always there for her, no matter what.

And then Cris learns about how Joana broke her arm when she was eight, falling off of the roof of her old house. She used to sit up there at night and try and catch a glimpse of the stars, or the lights of the city, when she couldn’t find them.

She tells Cris about how she always had friends who were older than her growing up, and never really any close ones. Moving to Madrid, she thought, would be a fresh start to change this, but then it wasn’t. “Until now.” She smiles at Cris.

“Until now,” Cris agrees.

Finally, she tells Cris about when she was diagnosed, and her first time staying in a hospital. “It wasn’t long after we moved,” she says quietly. “I--I was miserable. I was alone, I didn’t speak Spanish right, apparently, and no one wanted to be my friend. And so-so--” She takes a deep, shuddering breath. “One night, I took a bottle of pills. Tried t-to--to end it. And--” Cris makes a noise, and wraps her arms tight around Joana. Joana rests her head on Cris’s shoulder. “L-luckily, my mom found me. And they took me to the hospital, and I stayed in the psych ward for a few weeks. Saw lots of therapists, did lots of tests, and they-they diagnosed me then. And I-I’ve been to the hospital a few times since. But-but I’m seeing a therapist now, and I’m on medication. And--yeah.” Joana shrugs, and gives Cris a teary smile. “That’s--how it started.”

Cris closes her eyes and pulls her as close as she can physically manage. “Well,” she murmurs, after a little while. “You’re not alone anymore, okay?”

Joana smiles. “Okay.”

She leans over to kiss Cris, and they hold each other close for a long time after.


	12. Epilogue

_ Amira was right, _ Cris reflects later on. Having a soulmate  _ is _ scary. But also, it’s the greatest thing in the world. Once she and Joana talk, once they’re on the same page and understand each other, truly  _ see  _ each other, everything falls into place. And Cris understands, truly, why those cosmic forces of the universe paired them together, forever.

It’s in everything they do together. It’s in the way they text each other first thing every morning, sometimes just a  _ good morning, _ sometimes a cheesy  _ I dreamed about you.  _ Sometimes it’s just whatever their first thought is when they wake up, like the time Joana texts Cris,  _ Did you know that cows always eat grass north to south? Much to think about.  _ But no matter what, no matter where they are, they always wake up together, and they always fall asleep together as well, texting each other romantic good nights or sleepily facetiming each other all night. 

It’s in every conversation they have, both serious and not at all. In the inside jokes upon inside jokes that pile up around them, all the secret smiles and fits of laughter that only they can understand. In the way they can make each other laugh, be happy just effortlessly. And it’s in the darker moments as well, how Cris can sense when Joana’s mood drops, the shadow that quietly falls over her face, that change in her eyes. And it’s in the way that Cris has come to know, instinctively, the best ways to help Joana in these moments, how to hold her and talk to her, how to work with her to figure out the best course of action. And in the same way, when Cris is angry or frustrated with school, with her mother, with life in general, Joana is there to help her let it all out.

It’s in all the time they spend together. The hours that they pass, curled up together in Joana’s room. Joana, reading her books; Cris, curling up next to her, playing with her hair, sometimes looking over her shoulder to see a passage that makes Joana smile, laugh, or otherwise react. Going to the park together, spread on blankets, watching clouds in the sky, braiding flowers into crowns for each other. Walking around the city, buying ice cream or popcorn or honey-roasted nuts, and sharing them together. Joana trying to heal Cris’s reprehensible knowledge of movies (or lack thereof) by showing her the classics--and sighing, in exasperation but also in love when Cris ultimately falls asleep during every single one. The two of them, spending as much time as they can together, knowing that the rest of their lives will be the same, and in fact has already begun.

It’s in the way they naturally know how to love each other. The way in which Cris’s cute and corny and near-constant text messages and her penchant for physical attraction help Joana to see, despite any of her doubts, that Cris really cares about her, loves her,  _ wants  _ her. The way in which Joana’s over-the-top, extravagant flirting helps Cris realize that Joana is real for her too, that she takes her seriously, loves her seriously.

It’s this, all of this, and finally, Cris understands that what they write in all those stories are true. 

And finally, she decides, it’s time for her friends to meet Joana.

“Are you nervous?” Cris asks, watching Joana fix her hair in the mirror.

Joana turns to her and shrugs. “Well, don’t be.” Cris stands up and reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind Joana’s ear. “They’re going to  _ love  _ you. Just like I love you. I promise. Okay?” She leans up to kiss Joana on the forehead.

“Okay.” Joana sighs, but she’s smiling a little too.

Cris reaches down to take her hands. “Ready?”

Joana nods and pulls her in for a kiss. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

Cris leads her towards the door, hand in her hand. 

“Wait,” Joana says suddenly, stopping.

“Yeah?” Cris asks, feeling a jolt of worry in spite of herself.

“I love you too,” Joana murmurs, and she blushes.

Cris grins, and leans in to kiss her once more.

The rooftop’s set up immaculately, full of food and music and lanterns giving off a soft glow, bright enough to see, but dim enough that the lights of the city can still shine through. Her friends are there too as she walks in with Joana, laughing and dancing and talking, and all turning to smile at her, greet her as they see her. And all around her, swirling in the lights and sounds and faces of her friends, are the colors, the vibrant yellows, reds, oranges, pinks, the cool greens, blues, and, of course, purples. Those colors that once frightened Cris so much now envelop her, wrapping themselves around her like a warm hug. Holding her close, with her soulmate, the girl without which none of this would be possible.

“Hi girls,” she cries, “This is Joana. My soulmate.” And she feels such a rush of pride and happiness in those words, saying them out loud for the first time.  _ Joana. My soulmate. _

Her friends all chorus excited “Hi!”s, and hurry forward to introduce themselves and talk to her. Cris hears Viri telling Joana how pretty she is, and Eva and Nora enthusiastically agreeing. Then, Amira gets into a brief discussion with Joana about how much she likes her outfit, and where she buys clothes. A fun, fast song comes on, and now Eva is excitedly inviting Joana to come dance with them. She glances nervously over at Cris, and Cris laughs and calls, “Go ahead! If you want to!” It only takes one more look at Eva, and now Nora’s smiling faces to convince her.

Cris watches her soulmate  _ (her soulmate!)  _ dancing around with her best friends, her moves definitely a bit awkward and jolting, but with Eva and Nora encouraging her she’s clearly having the time of her life. It’s a perfect moment really, a truly perfect moment, and she can feel the wonderful ache in her cheeks, she’s grinning so much.

“Hey.” 

Cris hears Amira’s voice behind her, and turns around to smile at her. And as she does so, she realizes that Amira’s not alone. Standing next to her, arm wrapped around Amira’s shoulder, is a tall, pretty Black girl with a dark red hijab and a matching dress, and a bright smile. “Oh my gosh,” Cris says as the realization hits her. “Oh my gosh, is this--are you her--?” She can’t finish the sentence, but instead mouths  _ soulmate,  _ eyes wide. “She’s beautiful!” She finally gasps out.

“She sure is.” Amira grins and blushes a little. “Cris, this is Najima, my soulmate. Najima, this is Cris. My best friend.”

“I’m so happy to finally meet you,” Najima says, and leans in to give Cris a kiss on both cheeks.

“Me too!” Cris exclaims. And from the bottom of her heart, in this wonderful moment, she says, “I’m so happy Amira’s found you!”

Najima and Amira both laugh. “Me too,” Najima says. Then, she turns to her soulmate. “I’m going to get some food. Meet you back here?”

“Sure!” Amira is all bright smiles and heart eyes as she gives Najima a hug before she leaves.

Cris watches them, and her heart feels like it’s about to burst with happiness. The moment Najima’s out of earshot, she breaks down and squeals, “Oh my GOD!”

“I could say the same to you.” Amira smirks at her. “I take it things are going okay?”

Cris nods. “It’s...amazing, honestly. It’s definitely not all sunshine and rainbows for sure, but no matter what’s happening, just being with her is enough in the moment.”

Amira beams. “I’m so happy to hear that.”

“Well,” Cris gives her a small smile in return. “If it weren’t for you, we probably wouldn’t be here right now. So, thank you. Honestly. For everything.”

“Of course!” Amira reaches out to take Cris’s hands. “And I’m always here for you, you know? No matter what. Amiris forever, right?”

“Yes! Amiris forever.” Cris squeezes Amira’s hands. “And I’m gonna be here for you too. Always.”

Cris finds Joana locked in an intense conversation with Viri, about soulmates, of course.

“See,” she can hear Viri saying, “I always  _ think  _ I’m seeing colors, but I never really feel confident about it. How do you know...for sure?”

Joana shrugs. “I don’t know exactly. I think--you’re always looking for it, but once you see it, you  _ see  _ it. And you just  _ know _ that’s what you’ve been searching for your whole life. It just feels so natural, in the end.”

Smiling to herself, Cris steps forward. “Mind if I cut in?”

Viri gives them a mischievous grin. “No, not at all,” she says. “Don’t want to get between you two soulmates!” She gives them a massive wink, and then flounces off.

Cris looks at Joana for a moment, and then the two of them burst out laughing. “Wow,” Cris gasps through her laughs. “Just--wow.”

“She’s a firebrand, that Viri,” Joana agrees. “But sweet.”

“Definitely.” Cris nods. “You know, she helped me come up with the whole karaoke stunt at your house?”

_ “Really?” _

“Yeah.” Cris tries on her best Viri impression. “She was like, Cris, Cris! You’ve got to do something  _ big!  _ You’ve got to show her how much you care! Otherwise, you can kiss that soulmate good-bye!”

Joana smiles. “She’s a smart one, that Viri.”

“Yeah,” Cris says thoughtfully. “Except she got one thing wrong.”

“Really? What?”

Cris reaches up to wrap her arms around Joana’s neck. “I can still kiss you good-bye. And  _ hello, _ and  _ good morning, _ and  _ good night, _ and  _ you look particularly gorgeous today, _ and  _ I love that face you’re making at this particular point in your reading.”  _ Cris kisses Joana’s face with each category she lists. “And  _ I know you’re sad and I just want to let you know that I’m here,  _ and  _ Let’s just lay here forever, okay?  _ And  _ I’ve brought you a present,  _ and  _ this song reminds me of you,  _ and,  _ FUCK, you’re hot,  _ and  _ maybe I can be late to that event after all,  _ and--”

Joana cuts Cris off by dipping her low, and kissing her hard.

“Wow,” Cris says when they finally come up for air. “What sort of kiss was that?”

Joana smiles. “That was an  _ I can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my life with you  _ kiss.”

“Oh.” Cris feels as though her chest might burst, with all the love around her. She leans up and kisses Joana again, wrapping her fingers around her soft, purple hair.

“And that one?” Joana asks.

Cris grins. “That kiss meant,  _ you better believe it.” _

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on tumblr @bijoanabianchi!


End file.
